


Staying the Night -- Klance One Shot

by Pitastash



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Being Lost, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Camping, Consensual, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, Top Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23414590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pitastash/pseuds/Pitastash
Summary: Lance forgets the map, Keith is sexy as fuck, it all unravels.This fanfic is set in an AU where adult Lance and Keith work together for a camping program, Shiro is their supervisor, but they've never been in this particular neck of the woods before, if you know what I mean ;)
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Kudos: 58





	Staying the Night -- Klance One Shot

**Author's Note:**

> First publication for smut, please be nice to me ^^

It was late afternoon at the campgrounds, and the autumn leaves rustled overhead like hundreds, perhaps thousands, of glinting embers. Shiro, one of the camp supervisors—and their friend—had asked them to retrieve some left over supplies from the weekend, having developed a cold in its aftermath. Lance had grudgingly agreed to go with Keith despite neither of them having set foot in the forest before. And now, several hours into the task, he was regretting that decision.  
“Where the heck is cabin 8? It was supposed to be here—”  
“You didn’t bring a map?” Keith demanded.  
“Well…no, but—”  
“Great.”  
Lance shrugged apologetically, but Keith did not meet his eyes.  
“Sorry, man.”  
Keith sat down on one of the many logs surrounding what had been a fire just forty-eight hours ago. He leaned forward, head in his hands. Wearing his usual black, he looked somewhat like a bird of prey. His hunched posture pulled the shirt’s fabric tight over his shoulder blades and a pale strip of skin peeked out above his belt.  
Lance took a breath.  
Keith nearly always made him feel dangerously on-edge, and up until now he’d chalked it up to the rivalry between them. Keith’s annoyingly symmetrical face, stunning violet eyes and occasional sideways smiles were the stuff of nightmares. Lance had dreamed about them often enough.  
Lance sat down on the next log over. Keith made no acknowledgement of him.  
“So I fucked up.”  
The light of golden hour fell softly on the trees overhead, on the crown of Keith’s head, on the metal grate of the fire pit. Lance leaned forward and stirred the cold charcoals with a stick. Ash wafted up. It smelled like a memory, one from the good old days when Lance had nothing to worry about but who among his siblings would get to roast the first marshmallow.  
Now everything was an effort. His family was all the way across the country, he was blindly figuring out the Summer Camp closing season agenda without much help from his employer, and now here he was, all alone in the middle of the huge ass campground. With Keith.  
“Lance.”  
He looked up and met purple irises and dark brows.  
Keith had realization in his eyes. “The river runs downhill, so if we find that, maybe we’ll can find the cabins.”  
Ah. Right. The cabins.  
“So we listen for running water now?” Lance quipped.  
“Have a better plan?”  
“My instincts—”  
Keith snorted. Lance opened his mouth to try again, but his rival’s hand shot out in his face. Keith’s hands were cold against Lance’s lips, which infuriated him. Stupid angsty Hot Topic emo trash.  
“Your instincts are shit.” The smile wound around Keith’s lips, taking on a “you idiot” expression, and this time it made Lance’s blood burn.  
“Fuck off,” Lance spat, and pushed back.  
“You fuck off!”  
“No you!”  
Keith pushed back.  
Lance shoved, and suddenly they were on the ground, Lance’s hands somehow on either side of Keith’s waist, his bare hipbones. Touching his ivory skin.  
Keith was sprawled under him. His silky hair like a halo of night cast upon the dirt. And he was looking at Lance.  
It was hard to read that expression.  
It was hard to think at all.  
Heart pounding, blood rushing to his head, Lance suddenly felt very lost. More lost than they had been minutes before.  
Lance stared at Keith a heartbeat too long, and then he was rolling off, his face red-hot. This is stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.  
He was seething with anger, although it wasn’t exactly at Keith. It was…about Keith? He shook his head to clear it.  
Keith was silent as he propped himself up and stood. He did not look at Lance.  
Lance cleared his throat, turning away, his hand on the back of his neck. “Look…I’m not …I mean…”  
Keith said nothing.  
“I don’t know what—what’s…it’s a weird day.”  
Nothing.  
“I—Let’s…let’s just go already. Fuck.”

Eventually they did, around eight in the evening. Lance flicked on the overhead in as the two of them gathered the left-behind equipment, although it wasn’t nearly as much as Shiro had implied: just a box of flashlights, a first aid kit, a couple weathered board games and a Fanta bottle, long empty.  
The grounds’ dunlop army-green sleeping bags were all jammed into the first cabin’s closet, as if someone had had quite the wrestling match getting them there.  
Lance eyed these intently, still avoiding Keith’s direction.  
A small brown spider had made its home in the window beside the closet, sheltering just high enough to calm the aversion of any passersby. Insects flocked around the lights, casting flickering shadows over the room.  
“Right…that’s everything,” Keith spoke softly.  
“Everything,” Lance repeated.  
“And,” Keith sighed, “we’ll have to stay here tonight.”  
“Wait—”  
“Unless you want to hike back to the van in the pitch black.”  
This was so not what Lance had signed up for.  
They stared at each other, Keith a little reservedly. Those amethyst eyes were like twin planets, weren’t they?  
Lance shook himself and grunted agreement. He pulled at one of the sleeping bag straps. It did not budge.  
“Here, I’ll do it,” Keith’s voice came behind him in a whisper.  
“Nah, man, I got it.”  
Lance pulled harder, determined this time. The worst thing would be for Keith to show him up, prove to them both that he was stronger, more capable, more of a man…  
Keith’s gloved hand touched his shoulder.  
“Fucking hell, I got it!” Lance pulled a bag away, mouth twisted between a smirk and a scowl.  
“Lance... you okay?”  
“Yeah.”  
Keith bit his lip. Lance had to drag his gaze up from it to look his coworker in the eye. He did not want to talk about his feelings, about any of it. Besides, it wasn’t like Keith could ever turn into someone who would understand.  
“Are we okay?” Keith was dead serious, but Lance was too busy processing the tingling in his gut at the word. We.  
Keith grabbed his shoulders. He was so close.  
“I messed up earlier,” Lance mumbled. “I left the stupid map.”  
The other smiled slowly, softly, for what seemed like the first time.  
“You idiot.”  
And then Keith kissed him. And then it was all lips, lips and wetness, and Keith was a wildfire, and Lance wanted to burn away.  
One of his hands trembled on Keith’s chest; the other rose up to touch his face, his neck. Keith’s neck was so soft. His tongue was hot, decisive, and the feeling made it impossible to imagine anything else. It took over the whole world; reality was just them, body on body, blood rushing.  
Keith broke away to catch his breath. Lance just stood there, feeling like he was melting. Like his whole body could just liquefy on the spot.  
Instinctively he leaned in again, capturing those lips he’d seen at the backs of his eyes. Heart thrumming, he kissed his way down Keith’s face, tasting his jaw, the shape of his throat.  
Lance felt the warmth of Keith’s breath, shallow and surprised at how good it felt. Lance wanted to hear it pounding through his head.  
With one hand, he yanked Keith’s hips to his own. His groin responded at once. The other hand slid under Keith’s dark shirt.  
“F-fuck…” Keith whispered as Lance continued to kissed him.  
He felt drunk as Keith moaned into his mouth.  
He continued to pinch and fondle and touch and touch and touch Keith.  
He was touching Keith.  
It wasn’t so bad. 

He’d been thirsting after his friend for years, only now it became so obviously clear, so painfully visceral, neither of them could speak.  
Keith moaned as Lance’s other hand slid down and grabbed his ass.  
God, that sound did something to him. All the blood rushed to his crotch. With every moan, the pressure built.  
Suddenly Keith thrust forward.  
Their hips met with a rough smack, and Lance’s head spun. It happened again, and again, and again. It became a hungry rhythm. The harder he grinded on Keith, the more noise escaped both of them. By then it was more feeling than seeing, and it felt…  
“Fuck me,” Keith panted, in his ear. “Please just fuck me already. Please.”  
“I want to.” The words were out before Lance knew he’d said them.  
Keith felt so good against him. His body was rocking like ocean waves. His beautiful face was flushed.  
Keith was beautiful. Beautiful. How had Lance been so stupid?  
In a daze, he moved down Keith’s body and drew away his belt, undid his zipper, yanked down his dark boxers.  
“I’m going to do it now,” Lance said.  
He wrapped a hand around Keith’s dick, and slid it between his lips. Keith was like iron under his tongue.  
“Ahh!” His rival’s body arched, head knocking back.  
Lance continued, hands taking him all over.  
“God! FU-FUCK!”  
The sound of Keith’s voice alone was enough to get to him, erotic as hell, very promising.  
“I—Can’t—! I’m gonna--”  
And then Keith was dying a little, and Lance was touching himself to the sound, and then it was over.


End file.
